


Nightmares and Dreamscapes

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 01:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16337024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Harry begins having nightmares and pulls Snape along for the ride.This is a WIP.At the moment it is rated T but that could change.





	Nightmares and Dreamscapes

From the Journal of Severus Snape

Sept 5th ~  
I had the dream again. Potter. In the Forbidden Forest. Voldemort cackling over the boys kneeling form. His wand coming up and the Cruciatus Curse slamming into the boy. My dream self had flinched when Potter screamed. Not that I blamed him. I have, on occasion, suffered that Curse at Voldemort's hand and it is not pleasant. I was, however, surprised at my own reaction to Potter in pain. I am not a nice man. I never have been. Normally, the sound of another's suffering, especially one I did not particularly like, would have been arousing. With Potter, though, I simply felt pain. Pain and a fierce desire to end that suffering any way I could. I must say this is quite the unexpected turn of events.

Sept 6th ~  
The blasted dream has come again. Seemingly picking up where last night's left off. Potter was once more on his knees, screaming out his agony at Voldemort's feet. I tried to move forward to intervene but my body refused to obey me. I was held rooted to the spot unable to do anything save watch Potter's pain. Without warning I saw Voldemort release him. Potter sagged, nearly collapsing at the sweet relief now flooding him. Voldemort then lifted Potter's chin and spoke something I was unable to hear. Young Harry looked aghast and shook his head violently. Voldemort merely smiled and raised his wand again. I awoke with Harry's screams echoing in my ears and my cheeks suspiciously damp.

Sept 7th ~  
For the third night in a row I have awakened to the sound of Harry's screams. I wonder when he ceased to be Potter for me and became Harry instead. My esteemed colleagues are beginning to worry. The dark circles under my eyes are even more pronounced than is the norm. But I digress. The state of my appearance is of little consequence. The dream, and I pray that is all it is, picked up where the other left off again. Once more my dream self stood rooted to the spot as Harry suffered. Again Voldemort posed his question and again Harry refused. The shake of his head was much less adamant this time, though. The look of abject terror in his eyes when the fiend's wand was raised again tore at me like a thousand sharpened claws. I struggled anew, trying every trick I knew to break free, to get to him somehow, to shield him with my own body if need be. Useless folly, that. I could no more break free than I could transform into some great bird and fly him and I away. I tried even to make myself heard, thinking (hoping) perhaps I could draw Voldemort's attention to me instead. They carried on as if I'd never made a sound, as if I wasn't even there. No! It can not be! I have never been a passenger in dreams before. Could this be what is happening here? Am I merely riding along in Harry's nightmares?

Sept 8th ~  
I watched Harry today. He seemed off, as if he hadn't been sleeping too well. I worry for him. Voldemort could show up again at any time. He must be ready or the Boy Who Lived won't do so for long.

Sept 9th~  
The dreams have stopped. I am unsure how or why but I am relieved nonetheless. If I was merely a passenger in Harry’s dreams then at least his subconscious has finally stopped tormenting him so. I try not to think about what else it could be. I am not one for portents and omens. I am no seer. But something is surely connecting me to the boy. Something dark and pain-filled. Full of fear and a cackling madman. 

Oct 8th~  
The dream has returned. It seems to have picked up right where it left off. Harry is on his knees at Voldemort’s feet. He is bloodied and shaking as tears run unchecked down his face. When the Dark Lord whispers to him, Harry sobs yet somehow finds the strength to shake his head, to say no even though he knows what is coming. I am closer to them now. My view unimpeded. I can see every taut muscle as the curse slams into him with unrelenting force. I can smell the sweat and blood that cover him. It makes my stomach roil and I fight not to be sick right there. I struggle, though I know it is fruitless. I scream until my voice is gone. Nothing I do matters. Nothing I do eases Harry’s suffering. I am shocked when Voldemort suddenly stops and turns toward me. His eyes meet mine in the gloomy darkness and I know then. I know that he has been aware of my presence all along. He has watched me struggle and scream in the face of Harry’s pain. The last thing I see before I awaken is his reptilian smile.

Oct 9th~  
Unsurprisingly I found my dream-self once again in the Forbidden Forest. Something was different this time. This time, the Dark Lord and Harry were not alone. A circle of masked Death Eaters surrounded us. Looking down, I saw that I was wearing the robes of a Death Eater as well and felt my stomach turn. I did not know if Harry was aware of my presence or not but I did not want him to see me this way. I did not want him to see me in the robes of the man torturing him. I am not ashamed to say I begged this time. I actually begged the Dark Lord to stop, to spare Harry. He only laughed, as if my pleadings amused him. I suppose they did. I am not a man above begging, Voldemort knows this. Normally, however, I am begging for my own pain to end. To beg for the sake of another is wholly foreign to me. Well, not wholly. I begged for Lily to live after all. I was as successful now as I was then. 

Oct 10th~  
Harry is getting weaker in my dreams. He is barely able to lift his head when Voldemort poses his question. Always his answer is the same and I found myself yelling at him, telling the foolish boy to give in already, that he has been bested, that all he can do now is give in and spare himself the pain. Harry never has been one for listening, especially to me. With a trembling shake of his head I can only watch as the torture begins again. The Death Eaters surrounding us are thriving on it, drinking it in and reveling in it. When I heard the sounds of his bones breaking under the curse, I turned my head and retched. I need to speak to someone. The Headmaster. Perhaps even Harry himself. I must find out if I am riding along in the boy’s nightmares or if this is something else. At this point, I pray for the nightmares.

Oct 12th~  
Albus was of no help. He knew of no way to tell if this was merely dreams or some horrible portent of things to come. He suggested I talk to the boy. Easier said than done. Harry does not trust me and he has good reason not to. I have made myself thoroughly unapproachable to the boy. His eyes are far too much like Lily’s for me not to see her every time I look at him, even if the rest of him is a complete replica of his father. I have learned, albeit slowly however, that Harry is not James. He does not bully. He does not use his status to garner attention or favors. He is nothing like his father and everything like my dear Lily whom I still miss with all of heart. Albus is right. I must talk to the boy but for that, Harry must be willing to talk back.

Oct 15th ~  
The dream was worse than ever last night. By the time the Dark Lord posed his question, Harry was writhing on the ground, blood running from his nose. The Dark Lord looked at me and laughed at my impotence. I pray these are merely Harry’s dreams for if they are not then there is a good chance the Dark Lord knows about me. I am due to be summoned any day now. If he knows of my true allegiance then I am a dead man. Or eventually I will be. For he will make my suffering a hundred times worse than what Harry has endured in my mind. I must take the chance, though. If there is anything I can learn, any knowledge I can glean that might put a stop to this, then I must try. In the meantime, I will attempt to speak to Harry. 

Oct 15th - later~  
Suffice it to say, Potter was somewhat reluctant to speak with me alone. He knows I am Dumbledore’s spy but even that is not enough to make him trust me. He is wise to be wary. Not of me, but in general. I asked him to my rooms so that we might have some small bit of privacy. That was probably a mistake. It put him instantly on guard and I had to work to get him to believe there was no malice in my intent. He seemed shocked when I began to tell him of my dreams. I could only watch the color drain from his face as I went on. When I told him of this latest dream, he leapt to his feet and began pacing furiously. After a short while he managed to confirm that he had been having the same dreams. We matched almost to the letter. The only difference was that he was completely unaware of my presence. I asked him what he thought the dreams meant and he merely shrugged and said he had thought it nothing more than his fear getting to him. Not wanting to alarm the boy, I agreed, though in the back of my mind I had my doubts. If I was merely a ride along in his dream then why did Voldemort meet my eyes? Harry has no recollection of that though he was nearly incapacitated with pain when it happened. We agreed that we would both be more alert the next time the dream came, for we both knew it would, and try to make contact. Perhaps if we did that, we could break this damnable cycle before it drove me completely mad.

Oct 16th~  
No dream last night. While I am relieved, for Harry’s sake if nothing else, I am also worried. Perhaps it was nothing more than our talk, our acknowledgement of the dream that has brought it to an end. While I want to believe that, I am reluctant. 

Oct 21st~  
The dream has returned. Not only is it getting stronger, it is lasting longer as well. Or at least that is how it seemed. For what felt like hours I struggled against the invisible hold on me, screaming at the Dark Lord to stop, to let the boy go. I even offered to take his place, something I had been loath to do before. For if this was more than just some sort of hellish connection that made me privy to Harry’s nightmares then such an offer could prove quite dangerous to me. At the time, I did not care. In truth, I still do not. If it would ease the boy’s suffering I would gladly take his place. It is not as if I have not suffered under Voldemort before. 

Oct 22nd~  
The Death Eaters are coming closer. The ring they form around us is slowly tightening. I do not know what it means for either of us, but I know it cannot be good. The Dark Lord met my eyes again. He smiled that sickening smile, his eyes alight with glee as Harry writhed and moaned at his feet. However this time when he turned his attention back to Harry, the boy’s eyes looked toward me. I do not know if he saw me or was only looking for me. I do hope he saw me. I do hope he knew someone was there besides his enemies, even if I was powerless to help him. I must find out what this is. I must find a way to help him, if only to end these infernal nightmares.

Oct 22nd – later~  
Harry told me that he saw me. He said it was as if I was a flame flickering in the breeze. He described me perfectly, the low, dark branches that surrounded me, how I struggled, how I shouted though he could not hear me. He said it gave him hope, in his dream that is, hope that someone would come and end his suffering. I promised him then and there that I would find a way, that this nightmare would not go on forever. I am not sure if he believed me or not but he seemed the tiniest bit relieved at my words nonetheless. I have been wary of giving Harry any sleeping potions, afraid that this was more than just a dream and that the potion might keep him from waking. The last thing I wanted was to lock him in that nightmare with no way to escape. I will speak with Albus again. This cannot be allowed to continue. 

Oct 23rd~  
The Headmaster is useless. He offers platitudes and sweets, saying he is aware of our predicament yet offers no solutions. Harry and I are both showing the signs of our restless sleep. I have been more of a viper than my usual in all of my classes and Harry can barely sit up straight by the time he reaches potions class. Luckily, it is his last class of the day and I have taken to allowing him to simply go into my storeroom and lie down rather than attempting to attend class as much as I can. Every time I do, his eyes show nothing but gratitude and I feel my shriveled heart ache in my chest at the sight of it. Has the boy known so little care in his life that he should be grateful to me for what amounts to no more than a few minutes respite? It galls me to even think it and yet I can see it in his eyes. I can see the way he flinches when people move too suddenly around him. It is all too reminiscent of his first year at Hogwarts and it makes me wonder what type of home life he must have had to react so strongly. Putting Harry’s past aside, I have come up with an idea. I do not know if it will make a difference or not but I will try it tonight. Perhaps if I can somehow get to him we can break the dream’s hold over us. If not, then I will not stop until I have found a way to end this for him.

Oct 24th~  
It seems the Dark Lord was not happy with me bringing my wand into the dream in an attempt to alter it. I can still feel the undercurrent of the Cruciatus sizzling along my nerves. I did say I was willing to take the boy’s place and if it gives Harry even a short respite from the Dark Lord’s torturous attention then I am glad for it. I do hope Harry was not aware of it, though. The boy is a Gryffindor through and through. He will not take too well to someone suffering on his behalf. 

Oct 24th – later~  
I was not wrong about Harry being upset with me. As soon as he had me alone he demanded that I never do such a foolish thing again. Apparently he had been privy to my suffering to a much stronger degree than he had previously been aware of me. Not wanting to argue in the middle of the corridor I told him I would do what I thought best and walked away. I was not surprised when he all but glared at me during his Potion’s class. But while a protective Gryffindor may be a sight to behold, he has never seen the likes of a protective Snape. I will not allow the boy’s own mind to destroy him and that is exactly what is happening. These are not merely dreams on his part. Voldemort has manufactured this. He is the cause. The only question is has he merely set the ball in motion or is he aware of what is happening. If it is the one then I am in no more danger than I ever am. If he aware, however, things do not bode well for me. 

Oct 27th~  
The dreams still come, each more horrific than the last if that is possible. Harry is losing weight and all of his teachers are growing worried. Even Dumbledore appears concerned for once. It does not matter, though, for I think I have found someone to help us. She is an old witch, older even than Dumbledore. She specializes in dreams and portents but not in the way a Seer does. She calls herself a Dream Walker. I can only hope she can help. If not, I may have to move against the Dark Lord myself. It is insanity and will be almost certain death for me but I am do not know where else to turn and Harry is running out of time.


End file.
